“Well, that’s a hell of an exaggeration, so I’m good.”
“You need a reality check,” she makes another emphatic hand gesture, “because it’s not at all an exaggeration. I’ve read everything, every single review on the web. Even the toughest critics are testifying to your talent.”
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t know.”
“I knew you weren’t reading them!” She shakes her head, “You really have no idea what’s going on out there, but you need to trust what I’m saying and trust the screams in that audience tonight. You’re only going up from here,” she points skyward with her finger.
“You’re so drunk,” I muse.
“I’m a li’l tipsy,” she spouts, producing her keycard from a pint-sized purse. “I can’t invite you in…so,” she unlocks her door and opens it a few inches.
“I wouldn’t accept,” I say as she draws her brows adorably.
Crossing my arms, I lean against the jamb. “You look disappointed, Natalie. Tell me, why is that?”
“No, it’s not—”
I turn her toward her door and smack her ass. “Go on, enjoy your denial.”
She does an abrupt about-face and damn near clocks me with her forehead as she postures up to tell me off. Fuck if I don’t want this to turn into a push and pull, ending in me pushing into her as I pull on her wild, light strawberry curls.
“I’m not the bad guy,” she announces. “So, stop making me out to be one. I’m trying to protect us both.”
“Go to sleep, Natalie,” I push her door open to usher her in, her exotic floral scent wafting into my nose as the moral battle ensues.
We have a fight coming, an important one, but I’m not about to reason with liquor.
“I kissed you back,” she blurts, as if I need a reminder. “You know I did.”
“Is that what I know?”
“Fine…okay, all right, I guess…you must be so tired,” she stalls, her eyes begging me to act on what we both want. A victory I refuse to give her when she’s gone out of her way to avoid this very thing. More underlying anger flares as I imagine pinning her down and punishing her for it. Spreading her wide and fucking the truth into her mind only to have it pouring like a confession out of her mouth.
Right now, I don’t trust myself even though she seems cognizant enough for me to trap her denying lips with mine before gagging her quiet with my tongue. But she’s mistaken if she thinks I’ll allow her to use booze as an excuse to relapse on me. She’s playing dirty to avoid culpability. If anything happens this weekend, she’s going to have to fucking own it. She’s going to be stone-cold sober when we have this out for good.
“Yeah, I am tired. I’m driving tomorrow, so I’m going to turn in. Night, sleep well, Beauty,” I say, dipping to kiss her cheek and lingering, feeling her tense as I pull away. She grips the side of her door as I stifle my chuckle and move to head toward my room. “Hey, uh, Easton?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s the second…you know, the reason you…called the second time?”
“Nuh-uh. You closed that window when you flew away with Grey Goose.”
“I’m not the bad guy,” she repeats defensively.
“Okay.”
“I care about you, a lot.”
I dip my chin in response.
“Why won’t you talk to me? I’m being honest!”
“Well, don’t hurt yourself.”
She glares at me. “I missed you too, when I left.”
Despite her state, her neck reddens a little with her admission, and it’s all I can do to keep from snatching her to me.
“We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not doing this with you right now.” I take two strides away as she speaks up.
“You really missed me? Even with all you have going on?”
I pause and glance over my shoulder. “No, I’ve only called you twice a fucking week—every week—since you left because I haven’t thought about you at all.”
“What do you think about?”
“Don’t go there,” I warn, fishing my keycard out of my jeans.
“Tell me.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” I snap, the fight to keep the space she needs me to keep diminishing by the second.
“Fine,” she slams her door behind her as I tap my keycard against my lock before trapping myself inside the room adjacent to hers.